


A Creeping Wolf

by susanpevensie (pinklemonadelesbian)



Series: The Wanderer Between Worlds [1]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Women, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Female Protagonist, Female-Centric, Femslash, Femslash Focused, Nymphs & Dryads, Post-Canon, Traveler!Polly, Women Being Awesome, femslash centric, i'll try to make jadis more developed, narnia's first golden age, post-the magician's nephew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-12 08:38:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11158236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinklemonadelesbian/pseuds/susanpevensie
Summary: Polly Plummer finds her way back to Narnia, but all is not well. Jadis lurks in the shadows, and Narnia's Golden Age is nearing its end. Desperate to save the land she loves, Polly goes on a journey to find the Ivory Throne, the true throne of Narnia which only the true ruler can sit on. Meanwhile, Swanwhite, Narnia's lovely queen, is struggling to fend off suitors, all the while fighting Narnia's inevitable fall into the hands of Jadis.





	1. Prelude: The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> part of me refuses to believe Polly never went back to Narnia, so I made this.

**_The Story of the Traveler, the Ivory Throne, and the Queen_ **

 

**PART ONE: The Traveler**

 

**Prelude: The Letter**

 

 

 

On the twenty-second of October, 1875, a letter arrived at the Kirke Manor, addressed to one Digory Kirke. It read:

 

_Dearest Digory,_

_Went to Stonehenge this Sunday. Huge disappointment._

_Meeting up with peddler who has promised his wares hold mysterious powers._

_Not sure if I believe him, but my fingers are crossed. Wish me luck, and see you in a week._

_all my love, your friend Polly x_

 

              Digory smiled fondly; her letters were always short and to the point. It was just who she was, and he wouldn’t have her any other way. Polly Plummer was a smart, practical girl; she was dependable, resilient and had absolutely zero tolerance for nonsense and wishy-washy folks. If you had told anyone, anyone at all except Digory, that she spent all her spare time searching for the door to a magical land, they’d laugh. Loud and long. It just didn’t seem possible. Sometimes even Digory was surprised at how vigorously she searched for a way back, and he too had had a taste of Narnia. Of course, Polly had always been more goal-orientated. When he really thought about it, it was no surprise she was not content to wait as he was. Digory sighed and tucked the letter into the drawer he reserved for Polly’s letters and gifts—usually trinkets that, while not magical, were quite pretty. Sometimes even he tired of waiting; It was tedious, and he missed Narnia. He missed Polly. He often entertained himself with thoughts of traveling with her, finding Narnia with her. Having another adventure together. But this was Polly’s adventure, and he respected that, even if he sometimes resented being left behind.

 


	2. Chapter One: The Peddler's Locket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Journey Begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i decided to add the beginning of chapter 2 to chapter 1 to make it longer. and bc i wasn't sure if i could make a full chapter from it

**Chapter One: The Peddler’s Locket**

 

 

 

Polly Plummer was annoyed, to say the least. This appeared to be another complete and utter waste of her time, she felt like a fool for thinking it could be anything else. The man was pale and sickly-seeming, and he had a sly look around his eyes that she knew very well. It had been pendant after pendant, necklace after necklace, and still nothing had stood out her has particularly  _ Narnian _ . She was starting to lose patience: with the peddler, Aslan and Narnia itself, but most of all herself. She was beginning to think that she just wasn’t meant to go back to Narnia. 

 

She had found many other countries, of course; why, just last week she had visited a floating city in a land with gravity far lighter than earth, and much more magic, too. She had almost dared to hope that it had been Narnia, but of course, it had not been, and she had been both disappointed and thrilled to discover another world.  _ At least I had something worthwhile to write to Digory about, _ Polly thought, scanning the contents of the Peddler’s basket absently. She was about to give up and buy the moon and stars pendant for Digory, when something flashed golden. She glanced behind her at the cloudy evening sky, and a thrill of excitement ran through her. 

 

She thrust her hand into the basket despite the man’s protests, searching for the object that had given off the light. Several long moments later, she found it. It was a locket strung on a braided chain, and carved with the face of a lion. Although the lion was quite simple, there was something powerful and graceful about it, and the eyes seemed to stare into her soul. She stared right back, and had almost fallen into a trance, when it blinked. Once, and so quick she could almost convince herself it didn’t happen. “I’ll take it,” She breathed shakily. The man eyed her warily. “It’ll cost you,” He warned gruffly. “How much?” She said quickly, praying to the Lord above that it wasn’t a penny over forty. He scoffed loudly and she glared back but then— _ oh _ . He hadn’t meant it like that. She shrugged carefully, staring him down steadily. “I can handle it,” She said quietly. “Trust me, I’ve done it before.” His lips thinned and his eyes narrowed, looking her up and down suspiciously. “Very well,” He said begrudgingly. “As long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.” Polly beamed. “So, how much?” She asked, digging around her purse. The peddler shrugged. “That one’s free,” He said. She stared at him. “No way,” She breathed, shocked. “Seriously?” He rolled his eyes again. “Take it before I change my mind.” She nodded, ecstatic.

 

The ride home was quiet and filled with a heavy sort of suspense that you could practically feel, like a physical thing. Polly could not sit still, constantly jiggling her leg or tapping her fingers. She was unable to look away from the locket, which still gleamed in the falling dark. She wanted to put it on or open it right away, but she knew better than that. Still, it tugged at her, the lion’s eyes and undeniable power drawing her in. Several times she found herself with the necklace almost fastened around her neck. This lasted the entire drive, until finally, finally the cab reached the seedy little apartment she called home; she felt like she’d burst with anticipation as she hurriedly paid the cabbie and rushed up the stairs and in through the shaky front door. As soon as the door slammed shut she leaned against it to catch her breath, and held the locket up, staring at it. Now that she was able to put it on, she felt slightly afraid; but fear could not long hold her back, so slowly she fastened the thing around her neck. For the briefest moment, nothing happened and she had just enough time to feel disappointed—before promptly disappearing from our world.

As soon as Polly’s feet hit the ground and she tumbled head-first into the grass, she knew. She didn’t have to see the world to know: this was Narnia, as sure as she lived and breathed. It was something about the air; heavy and sweet in a way it was nowhere else. Or perhaps it was the way the smell of ripe fruit and fresh grass permeated it. Polly opened her eyes, and immediately the sunlight nearly blinded her. She blinked repeatedly until she could see again and stared. Narnia was different now, very different. The trees were old, ancient even, and gnarled and heavy with fruit; the fruit gleamed ruby-red in the late-afternoon sunlight. The shadows were different, too. Longer, darker, and colder. Polly shivered. Something felt incredibly off, though she wasn’t sure what. A prickling feeling, reminiscent of a horde of ants, crawled up her spine; it felt as if someone was behind her, and she whirled around. No one was there, not even a bird or a bee. Polly stared long and hard, eyes narrowed, but still, there was nothing. Shaking her head to clear it, she studied the field that she had landed it in. Before long she realized that the farther North she gazed the darker and drearier the land became. 

 

She frowned, and started forward; the air seemed to resist her and it was as if she was walking through a large vat of sludge, or a marshland. Magic. It was definitely magic; after several years of traveling to different worlds, and her and Digory’s interactions with Jadis, she was quite the expert at identifying magic. The realization that there was magic on the loose, dark magic, made her both more reluctant and more determined to continue forward. She glanced behind her, towards the south; the sun was brighter there, the grass greener. It would be easier to go South, she knew; but Polly Plummer never took the easy way out, and she surely wouldn’t be starting it now. She forged onward, determination burning within her. She’d come here to have an adventure, after all, and adventures were never easy.

 

 

 


	3. A Lone Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Polly meets a new friend, and is told some myths.

 

**Chapter Two: A Lone Wolf**

 

She had not traveled long—or perhaps she had, it was hard to tell in Narnia—when she met the wolf. The wolf was small and bedraggled, and she immediately took pity on it. “Good friend,” She said, “Are you hurt or lost?” The wolf looked up at her with bright eyes that seemed to be laughing. “Daughter of Eve,” the wolf growled in a strangely familiar voice. “I am not lost but I am lonely. Would you walk with me?” Something in Polly told her to turn and run—there was something hungry about the wolf, and she felt that if she turned her back to the wolf, she would devour her whole. However, the part of Polly that was gentle and tender of heart won out, and she smiled at the wolf. “I would be honoured to travel with you,” She said. “Are you going North?” The wolf barked a laugh, it’s teeth sharp and gleaming in the sinking sun. “I am indeed. How did you know?” Polly smiled nervously. Truly, the wolf was frightening. “I only hoped,” She answered. “I too am going North. There is a dark magic coming from that direction, and I intend to find it.” The wolf smiled again, her teeth looking sharper than ever. “How noble you are,” She said, but something about the way she said it seemed strange. Polly shrugged it off. “It’s nothing,” She said. “Now let's be on our way; I fear Narnia may be in grave danger.”

 

They set off together in a comfortable silence, which at times became oddly strained; Polly wondered at it, but chalked it up to the urgency of their journey. After however many hours of varying silence, Polly spoke. “What is your name?” She asked, tired of referring to the wolf as, well, the wolf. The wolf smiled, the hunger back once again. “Wolf will do,” She said, and Polly did not miss that that was not her true name, but left it well alone. Wolf continued in silence, her face turned from Polly, seemingly unwilling to speak anymore. However, Polly, discontent to walk in silence any longer, spoke. “Do you know any Narnian tales?” She asked, curious. Surely there were some now that so many years had passed since her last visit. Wolf turned to her at last, eyes glimmering with mirth. “I know a few,” She said, and began to tell a tale:

 

 

**The First Traveler**

 

_ There are many tales of the first traveler, and many names she is called by, but the most beloved is her true name: Polly. Just Polly. Now Polly was a little girl, strong and brave and noble but nothing else; She stumbled into Narnia, quite on accident, just as the world was sung into being; clinging to her was the witch of Charn. Charn was a dying world, a world being swallowed by its own sun, and so the witch, knowing this, latched onto Polly like a leech. And when Polly realized the carnage she had brought upon this new world, she was filled with rage and regret. And she took up a sword, gifted to her by the Great Lion Himself, and followed the witch to the ends of the earth, where the sea spills over the edge, and plunged her sword into the witch’s dark heart, and forever-after she has been cursed: for it is well known that a witch’s powers transfer over to her killer. And that is how Polly, just Polly, became Witch, Witch-bringer, and Witch-slayer; and it is told that when Narnia is in dire need she will come again and take up her sword once more. _

 

Polly stared down at her feet in silence, pondering the tale. Much of it was wrong, of course. It was just a myth, after all, but she couldn’t help but wonder if there was some truth to it; perhaps Jadis had cursed her. Perhaps the fierce burning she had felt that had pushed her to search for Narnia was a result of that curse, or perhaps it was just her own wandering heart. Whatever it was, it was strange to know there were myths about her—perhaps, if this one was to be trusted, many. Polly smiled slightly. “Are there any about her companion?” She asked. Wolf smiled back, all teeth. “Not quite,” She said, “But I can tell you one with him in it.” Polly grinned. “Please do.”

 

 

**The Golden Apple**

 

_ Long ago, when the world was young, there lived a princess; her name was Polly. Now, Polly had everything anyone could want—everything, that is, except a companion. And so there was a competition: whoever could reach the golden apples, which grew atop the highest mountain in Narnia, Mount Goliath, and bring them back to Polly would be her companion, and live in comfort for the rest of their lives. Naturally, many volunteered, and many failed, until there came a young peasant boy. He was of the age of Polly and he was as stubborn as she, and perhaps as brave. When he told her he would get the golden apple, she laughed, for he was so scrawny looking. And then he did something never done before: he dared her to come with him. Now there is something you must know about Polly, and it is that not only was she stubborn, but she was prideful as well. She accepted the dare without a thought, and soon they were on their way. _

_ The trek up the mountain should have been long and hard, as the slope was slippery with ice, but they found it quite fun. The boy and Polly were resourceful as well as stubborn and proud and they had gone to the dwarves below the mountain and acquired shoes with iron spikes that they dug into the ice, so as not to slide down it. They had also gone to the swans that lived in the lake on Polly’s palace grounds and begged a coat of feathers from them, which they shared between them whenever it got especially cold. All the while up the mountain they bickered, which should have made the journey tiresome, but instead cut it in half.  _

_ Sooner rather than later, they reached the top of the mountain, which was miraculously free of snow. However, the tree was struck down by a storm, and there was only one apple left, hidden beneath the branches. Polly found it quickly enough and the boy set about carving a makeshift sled. When it was done they climbed in and leaned forward until it tilted and hurtled down the slope. Their return was greeted with much cheer and celebration; later that evening, Polly and the boy snuck out of the castle and into the palace gardens, which were wild and overgrown and all the more beautiful for it, and they planted the seeds of the apple there and they watched it grow over the years, and stayed together as long as they lived. _

 

Polly grinned brightly once the tale was finished; that was not at all what happened, of course, but it had the spirit of Digory in it. Wolf grinned sharply at her. “I think it is time to rest, do you not?” Polly suddenly noticed how tired she was, and yawned. “Indeed,” She said, mid-yawn. She flopped onto the ground, curling herself into a tight ball, and after several still moments, she shivered violently. The cold had crept up on her without her noticing; behind her, Wolf huffed quietly. Polly waited for her to say something sarcastic, but instead, she soon felt the warmth of her fur pressed against her as Wolf curled around her to keep her warm. Polly smiled sleepily, and soon drifted off to sleep, content. 


End file.
